


A Dish Served Cold

by Rueitae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Gen, Hallucinations, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Touching, Strip Search, Threats of Violence, Threats of torture, Torture, Whump, non-graphic nudity, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-11-28 00:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/pseuds/Rueitae
Summary: Sendak has tamed this uninhabited planet he's been stranded on. A shuttle lands and contains exactly what he needs to escape and lift his bored mood.





	1. On A Silver Platter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrincelyAffairs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincelyAffairs/gifts).



> Inspired and based on [this amazing work by princely-affairs](http://princely-affairs.tumblr.com/post/183481007523/a-thank-you-to-rueitae-for-purchasing-a-copy-of).
> 
> Fairly gratuitous Pidge whump, but nothing outside of what you may see in the show (besides a little blood). It IS Sendak POV after all. Be warned, the ending is very open to interpretation - by design. 
> 
> (Sendak also kept his robot arm in this.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sendak hunts down a trapped Paladin, and begins his vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no warnings for chapter one, its fairly canon typical violence and can be read as a one shot. The non-consensual touching, non-sexual partial nudity, humiliation and mutilation is in chapter two.

The air is putrid inside the cavern - the scent of death and decay all around, but at least it is not poisonous. Sendak returns the pink leaf to his pocket; he will not need the antidote here.

His nostrils flare as he examines the surroundings. There is movement in this chamber. He hears the muffled cries of the victim and the soft taps of the great Elobhs closing in on its prey. He smirks, the pleasing sensation of discovery - something different on this wretched planet - enough to get his blood rushing in excitement. Even devoid of technology, Galra are superior predators.

His fortune cannot get better. A shuttle landed - the first space farers he’s seen in phoebs, the first since Voltron left him to die in the vacuum of space. The thought of such a ruthless tactic makes his steps light, eager to face the Champion again someday and capture the Voltron Lions.

Sendak is optimistic it will be soon. One of the shuttle occupants has been caught by the local wildlife. He only needs a guide to the shuttle before giving the Elobhs back its fresh meat.

He stretches his fingers, both natural and mechanical, fearlessly walking into the den. These sharp claws have torn apart many a web and creature alike. He is feared and fears none.

Sticky webbing drapes across the stone walls and ceiling. The intricate web itself is on full display, the size of a standard command deck. A great Elobhs clicks and descends onto the edge. It’s larger than most, at least three times his size, but it can die the same as the others.

Dozens of thick, interwoven tendrils of web hang throughout the cavern, misshapen sacks of dense threads dangling from the ends. They hold the beast’s past meals, some in the shape of Elobhs half the size of the one who rules this cave.

A worthy trophy for the gladiator ring perhaps, if he can obtain the shuttle and present it as a gift.

The Elobhs extends its forelegs, dragging a cocoon towards to itself. The victim is still alive, struggling to get free - though it is not the most notable thing about it.

“Lance! Hurry! Something’s here! I’m - I’m stuck! I can’t get out!”

The mumbling that first reached his ears back in the tunnels is now distinguishable words. The name tingles with familiarity, but the voice - the voice he still hears in his sleep. It matters not that the tone is panicked; the fear he remembers is there, no longer thinly veiled through anger and forced confidence as it had been at the Castle of Lions.

The Green Paladin is the one trapped.

Sendak pushes his former plan to the back of his mind, blood flowing fast through his rapidly beating heart, mouth curled up in delight. Here on this backwater planet, not only would he return to glory back to the Empire, but he would have his sweet revenge.

The Green Paladin screams, calling for help, and thrashes about as the Elobhs lowers the cocoon, poking, examining the bundle with its legs. As joyful a sound as it is, sweeter still is the prospect that soon _he_ will be the object of her terror.

Still, he clicks the side of his mouth with disappointment as the beam cannon in his mechanical limb buzzes to life - there’s no time for sport with a second Paladin loose nearby. It hits the Elobhs in the gut. It shrieks, all eight legs curling in as its body stills and falls to the floor of the cavern with a thud.

His prize jerks loose. It's a testament to the strength of the webbing that it remains attached to the ceiling even as the cocoon swings wide and violently, the Paladin inside wasting breath with fearful shouts.

There had better be some voice left in the brat for the trip back to the Empire. Torture loses half its entertainment without proper reaction from the prisoner.

He positions himself to catch the cocoon, sinking a metal claw into the web so that it does not escape him. This close he hears every gasp for breath the Paladin makes. The heated tips of his metal fingers make short work of the webbing, freeing the Paladin’s upper body. He wants to purr with glee - she’s upside down, back to him.

“That is the last time you get to run a close call, Lance,” she rasps. “I really hope you got the gas sample, I want to get back to the Castle as soon as possible.”

The thrill of the culmination of the hunt soars through his veins, his natural arm twitching with excitement. She does not yet know it is him.

“Lance?” Her voice tinges with the nervousness - the calm before the storm, the realization of something not quite right, the anticipation of danger. “You can gloat now... and cut me down.”

It is intoxicating.

Time to correct his captive.

She inhales sharply, a pathetic attempt at a scream, as he grabs hold of her helmet, dangling just above his head. His thumb crushes her comm unit, and metal index finger taps lightly, purposefully, on her visor. Sendak pulls her back towards him, and whispers into her earpiece, “It would have been a shame not to see your terrified face as the Elobhs drinks you dry.”

“Sendak.” Her voice is tight, quiet, full of disbelief - justified fear. She does not speak further, but he can feel her body trembling. Shock. Excellent.

He needs to see her face, take in just a small amount of the terror to sustain this euphoria until he breaks the atmosphere of this forsaken planet.

He rounds her, metal claws all but caressing the smooth Altean helmet. He gets what he desires, but only briefly. The Paladin’s soft brown eyes are wide as he comes into her view, mouth agape - but it quickly turns into a scowl of defiance, eyes gleaming like a sword in sunlight. It only delights him further as his metal thumb scrapes over her visor.

“I’m pleased to have made an impression,” he purrs. That’s all he can afford. He cannot repeat his mistakes at the Castle of Lions. “Now tell me, how many others are with you?”

“I’m not telling you anything,” the Paladin growls.

“Where is your shuttle?”

“Suck it.”

Sendak increases the pressure on her visor and a thin crack appears around his thumbnail. “I will be taking you to Emperor Zarkon, alive or dead. _Tell me_ where it is.”

Several emotions - fear, understanding of his threat, conflict, shame, back to defiance - all pass through her eyes in a tic. “No. Lance is going to come and kick your butt before you can get to it.”

The name is on the tip of his memory. It isn’t the Champion’s name, but it had to have been said at one point.

It must be the name of the Blue Paladin. That would be ideal. Time permitting, he will have two of his three former captives back, their Lions sure to follow once he has command of a fleet again.

“The longer it takes to find the shuttle,” he penetrates the visor with his thumb claw, earning a brief terrified look from the Paladin - whimper and all - before the scowl returns, “the longer you are exposed to the planet’s poisonous atmosphere.”

She stalls now, obvious enough as she wiggles around in the cocoon, eyes clenched shut. Deliberation, he’s seen it all before - she does not want to tell him. Pride, clinging on to the smallest hope of escape. She’s intelligent enough to know as soon as she gives him the information she’ll just be a hostage against her teammate.

And if Zarkon permits it, his personal slave. Because Sendak knows already just one shuttle trip worth of terrorizing the Green Paladin will not be enough to satisfy him.

He presses harder, the cracks in the visor grow and his claw draws blood alongside her tiny nose. She gasps, eyes flying open. His tongue glides across his fangs in anticipation, of the delicious prolonged vengeance he will have.

“How long you live is up to you. Tell me the location of your shuttle.”

He snaps the web holding the Paladin and she falls to the floor with a yelp before she can answer, as he intended.

A trip to the entrance will reinforce his threat. He grabs the woven tendrils and drags his prize into the tunnels, the rush of adrenaline still with him, more pleased than he has been in a while. Freedom and glory are both within reach.

“Let me go!” The Green Paladin struggles, twisting and turning wildly. It does not have her likely desired effect to slow him down, it only makes her situation worse, hitting twice as many rocks and no closer to escape. He allows her, to his enjoyment, to continue wasting energy and breath, causing self harm until reaching the last large cavern before the entrance. The threshold itself is covered in the same pink leaf antidote like a veil, filtering the air.

In the middle of the area, a grand chasm. It was easy enough for him to leap over, or the Paladin to jet over, but without the jet, a creature as small as this one would fall to a dark death.

“You won’t get away with this!”

It would be too quick a death however, for what he wants from her, and he wants to bear witness to her lifeless body when the time comes. He drops the web, wrapping his hand around her neck and and head. He pops the helmet off easily with his thumb. He wants to see her face for this.

“I already have. You will give me the location of your shuttle _now_.”

The Paladin squirms in his hand as he walks, holding her out over the edge of the chasm. “Why should I? You’re going to hurt Lance as soon as he shows up and you already have me. You have no _leverage_.”

Her resilience is precious, and every inch of his being tingles. He wants to crush her here and now - but that would bring him only momentary satisfaction.

“Listen,” he orders, moving his thumb over her mouth for silence. She bites angrily at it, but it does not hurt.

He pushes some rocks over the edge. Tics turn into doboshes, the Paladin struggles and attempts to speak, but he refuses to let her. He has a point to prove.

“Still no bottom,” he finally explains. “And the only thing keeping you from the pebble’s fate is my grip.” He squeezes, and she responds with an appropriately terrified face, gagging on his thumb - he removes it.

“You - you already threatened to expose me to this planet’s atmosphere,” she gasps confidently, though she strains to view into the chasm, looking anything but confident. But she continues. “You could have killed me when you found me. If you haven’t done it now, you aren’t going to.” Blood boils as she has the audacity to smirk at him. “You _want_ to take me alive. Killing me slowly is more appealing to you.”

Enraged, Sendak sends the Paladin flying into the wall. She lets loose a painful cry and he smiles, heart pumping. It’s been too long since he’s heard that sound, and his spirit rises in his chest once more. She’s bluffing, but he hates to admit she’s right, but breaking her later, slowly, will be all that more satisfying.

He approaches deliberately as she recovers from the blow. His hands are too large to fit solely around her neck, so he grabs her entire head and sits her upright - making sure to slam her head against the rocks for good measure.

It works. Her eyes roll back, sufficiently confused for the moment. The tips of his fingers glow purple and he cuts the remainder of the cocoon, freeing the Paladin and seizing the bayard. He stands. “Remove your armor, quickly, or I will do it for you.”

The Paladin wavers, holding her head and breathing heavily. “N-no,” she responds with a glare.

Her stubbornness dampens his mood, breaking a prisoner is no fun on time constraints. She inhales sharply as he jerks her arm, forcing her to stand and stumble forward. She is so tiny, ripping off the breastplate is as easy as changing the training dummies back at central command, the ones meant for shooting challenges. One this size as a Paladin of Voltron is laughable, had she not been the orchestration of his downfall at the Castle of Lions and managed to dispose of Haxus.

He would find out how it happened and make sure her death was in kind.

“Let go!” she demands, digging her boots into the ground and pulling futilely away from him.

After removing her gauntlets, he grabs her leg and pulls. The Paladin falls to the ground head first. She’s still, but conscious, breathing heavily as he removes the second boot. The task is boresome, but at least faster than the Paladin would have made it. He reaches under the front of the belt and pulls, jerking the Paladin up. She falls forward as the belt rips off, arms bracing her landing.

“When I give an order, I expect it obeyed, Paladin.” He kneels. Sweat drenches her frowning face, but her eyes shine with defiance still. He leans to whisper in her ear, digging his natural claws into her hair. “Then there is a small chance I will not punish you.”

The Paladin moans in pain as he lifts her to a standing position. He still has handcuffs with him, standard issue, and binds her wrists. That will not be sufficient, not with at least one other Paladin out there looking for her. He needs to make sure she is close, unable to sneak away. Holding her arm as he is now isn’t enough. He needs something durable.

The webbing. A wicked grin tugs on his face. Perfect.

“You’re awful,” she spits. “You got lucky finding me. If I could fight you wouldn’t stand a _chance_. Some great warrior you are.”

Saliva lands on his arm, but it and her words are hardly worth the annoyance. The capture was her own fault, far be it from him to not take advantage. Though he won’t let the chance go by to make an example of his prisoner’s behavior.

He throws her forward and she skids towards the webbing that once encased her. Without the protection of armor, loose rocks slice at her skin, letting blood flow through small cuts.

The Paladin surprises him, rising and launching herself at his body with a pathetic excuse for a battle cry. He catches her exposed neck before she can reach him, choking in his grip.

“You have some spirit left.” She shuts and averts her eyes as he leans in, so close to her face that his breath moves strands of her hair. “I will enjoy breaking it.” Her feet drag, seeking purchase as he walks the few steps towards the sticky material.

Taking no chances, he traps her facedown with a knee as he cuts the webbing into a short rope. The Elobhs has already done most of the work with how low the cocoon hung from the ceiling.

“You’re sick,” the Paladin says as he ties it around her neck. He tests the lead with a few tight tugs, and when it is sufficiently secure he jerks the Paladin to stand. She coughs, clearly disgusted and disoriented. Perhaps he’ll use this method of humiliation should Zarkon allow him to keep her. The idea of parading the Paladin around to his crew is appealing, and sure to break her sooner than later.

“Where is your shuttle?” He tugs the lead and the Paladin comes crashing into him. “If your own life isn’t enough, consider that the sooner I leave with you, the less likely your teammate suffers your same fate.”

It strikes a chord. The exact moment her hard eyes go soft and scowl turns into a thin line, he relishes the victory.

“I - I don't know how far it is from here,” she begins, head lowered in shame - it only excites him further, his natural claws twitching. “We landed near a field of purple flowers, on a rocky overhang.”

It is not far, at least not for him. The Paladin will live another day provided the information is correct. “A good girl,” he praises, rubbing his claws under her chin. She freezes, looking as if she both does and does not want to watch the action. It makes her uncomfortable, so he makes a note to do this often.

“I’m not - don’t expect me to do whatever you want. I’m going to fight you ever step of the way,” she threatens.

“I look forward to it,” he tells her. “I enjoy squashing insects that struggle until the end.”

He will keep the bayard. It will be required for Zarkon’s chosen Green Paladin. The rest of the armor will need to be disposed of, which is exactly why he’s stopped here.

“Wait, what are you doing?” The Paladin’s voice squeaks as he throws the chestpiece and helmet into the chasm. “My brother’s glasses are in the left gauntlet. They’re not a weapon, they can’t harm you.”

He holds the mentioned piece of armor in his hand, kicking the rest over the edge. There is still no sound of the chestpiece hitting the ground. He examines a piece of wiring tucked inside the gauntlet. “This?”

“Yes, that. There’s no tracker on them, just - I just need to keep those. Please.”

It’s the most emotion she’s showed besides anger and fear, and its borderline begging - over a primitive object. His fingers curl around the wires. If this is her reaction to this… he wishes the other Paladin would show his face so he can bask in her terror.

He isn’t going to toss the Paladin to her death, he’ll find a much more appropriate demise for her when the time comes, but he can start chipping away at her hope.

“No, stop!” The Paladin slams into his body a tic before he lets the wires slip from his fingers and into the chasm. “Matt!” she screams, the sweetest sound he’s heard all night.

He carries the hysterical _child_ on his shoulder - barely feeling her legs kicking against his chest- to cross the pit before dropping her at the entrance. She is only sitting up on her knees when he pulls on the lead, making the Paladin stumble to her feet. “I hope Earthlings are hardier than you look; the hallucinations comes fast.” His next thought brings a grin to his face. “Perhaps you will see your brother - “ Her eyes go wide, clearly unprepared for that prospect. “- plummeting into the chasm in your place.”

She is seething, tears flowing freely from her eyes. “You’re a monster,” she spits. The label does not bother him, more of a compliment than an insult. A monster invokes fear and cruelty, an excellent reputation for a Galra commander.

“I am Commander of the First Fleet of the Galra Empire.” He walks across the threshold with a firm tug on the woven threads of web. “Keep up.”

Her small body will not last as long as his, and he estimates only a few tics before she begins coughing and five doboshes before she cannot walk on her own power. All the better, he can wait until she starts to cough up blood and teter on the edge of consciousness before administering the antidote. No need for her to know he has it yet, he will wait until he feels her dragging behind him.

It is the perfect beginning to what will surely be the return of Voltron to the Galra Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Lance save the day or does Sendak successfully take Pidge back to the Empire? Completely up to you, dear reader.


	2. Just Desserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pidge has not been rescued and pays the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so first off, this chapter is much more violent than the first one. Mind the tags. There is absolutely nothing sexual about any action taken by characters, though there is non-consensual touching and non-graphic nudity, so please be aware if that would in any way make you uncomfortable. 
> 
> Thank you to [Engineer104](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104) for amazingly expedited beta work and the inclusion of several great one-liners (gratuitous Star Wars references) and making a few instances that much more whumpy.

A small, concentrated beam of light glints among the rocky ledges. Pidge knows that sign, Lance is zeroing in on his target.

Her heart races. The tic Lance takes his shot she needs to run. She adjusts her legs and pushes up from the pod’s passenger seat.

A sharp gasp escapes her lips when her hands don’t move. Pidge tugs, but the harder she pulls the more stuck she is. The fabric of the seat itself melts, encasing her arms, sucking her in.

“Let me go!” she screams, wiggling and twisting her body in any attempt to get free.

Sendak sneers in the seat beside her. “A pity your teammate is here. A few more tics and he’d be safe.”

He lifts his prosthetic arm and it shifts, bolt by bolt into a cannon. It whines, powering up, aimed for Lance’s sniping position.

“No, stop!” she pleads, her heart torn between her terror for Lance’s life and for her own body sinking further into the seat. “Leave him alo-AH!”

Pidge screams. The seat sprouts hands that wrap firmly around her legs and torso, pulling her further in, her back sticking and sinking.

Fearful tears well in her eyes, hysteria building in frustration of not being able to do anything. “La-n — !”

Melted strands of Altean fabric steal her voice as they worm into her mouth. Pidge gags as it brushes the back of her throat and tugs at her lobes, trickling into her ears.

Sendak shoots, and the blast vaporizes half the mountainside.

She wants to scream, cry, run, retaliate, but can’t. Her heart breaks, devastation seeping through the cracks.

“It’ll be okay, Pidge.”

Her eyes grow wide. More fabric seeps into her ears, distorting the familiar voice as if it's summertime and she’s ten years old again, playing in the neighborhood pool. It… it couldn’t be -

Matt stands at the edge of the overhang, looking no different than the day he left for Kerberos - even wearing his useless frames. He smiles, but there is no life or happiness in it.

Pidge tries to speak, but she chokes on the fabric-liquid, only able to breathe through her nose. She has so many questions! She needs to tell him to run!

“The Galra can’t hurt us anymore, Pidge,” Matt tells her. “Zarkon can't find Lance and me in death.”

He closes his eyes and spreads his arms wide, a peaceful smile etched on his face as if he’s simply enjoying the beautiful weather. Pidge’s heart catches in her throat as he leans back over the edge, letting gravity take him out of sight.

Pidge screams his name, unintelligible through her gag. She strains harder than before. No _No_ NO! First Lance and now Matt? What was he thinking? She has to get unstuck! She can still save him in the pod!

The substance invades her nose and burns her eyes. Pidge struggles for breath and finds none.

The shield goes up and the engines turn on. “Buckle up,” Sendak mocks.

Her seat engulfs her. No longer in the cockpit, Pidge lands on solid ground - though it doesn’t look like it. She gasps for breath on her hands and knees as she takes note of her new surroundings. The blackness of space is lit by green and white bands streaming around her like the Northern Lights.

Pidge doesn’t care. She collapses, curling in on herself, and sobs. She cries for Lance, her teammate and _friend_ , for Matt, her brother and idol, for her own helplessness and terrible luck.

She just wants to go home.

A gentle rumbling fills the silence, like a purr.

The Green Lion.

A weight rests on top of her, as if she’s tucked in with a heavy blanket, with strong arms - like her father’s - holding her tight. There are no words, only images of happier times, of Lance safe with the rest of her team - worried about her - and of a certainty that Matt was also alive, reminding her of her own convictions, her reason for coming to space.

None of what she just saw was real.

A mighty roar tears the world apart, washing away the scene like dirt on a sidewalk during a rainstorm.

Pidge blinks and wipes away her tears. For a half tic, her heart freezes when she lifts one hand and the other follows. Is she still dreaming?

Her wrists are cuffed in front of her now. She scans her surroundings, no longer in a cave or in the jungle, but the back of the Altean pod.

It seems so real with the hum of the engine. Nothing strange like Matt’s appearance and actions, Sendak’s suddenly extra powerful arm, or a seat coming to life - just the white coating, blue lighting accents, and benches along the walls.

Oh, that’s right. Lance hadn’t come in time.

Well, he might have, but Pidge can’t bear to think what became of him since she’s still Sendak’s captive and he isn’t.

He can’t hurt Lance now, at least. Matt was right about that. But Pidge refuses to believe he’s dead.

Unfortunately, Sendak can still hurt _her_. But she resolves to get information - about Lance mainly - out of Sendak and figure out how to discern the truth from whatever he tells her.

Pidge curls her knees to her chest, wrapping her cuffed arms around them. She slumps against the side of the bench, resting her head against the sharp cutoff where the seat ends. It takes the pain away from her throbbing head and onto her temple, still a bit foggy from the planet’s hallucinogenic atmosphere. She needs to think - remember.

The events are hazy to her recollection. She remembers the giant alien spider - finding its web at least - the terrifying moment Sendak first grabbed her helmet to announce his presence, and Matt’s glasses - _Matt’s_ _glasses_ , lost on an alien planet for the rest of time. A sob worms its way up her throat, her breath hitching. Her brain is sure her brother - and her father - is out there, but right now her heart feels as if she’s lost _them_ and not just a memento.

Being slapped around and trudging through the forest is even further out of reach. Vaguely, Pidge remembers the soft cushion of the front seats, feeling like she needs to _run_ as the shield goes up… but her body never responds. She remembers the vast darkness of space, a comm unit open, speaking.

At some point, Sendak had placed her in the back. How long has she been back here? How long have they been traveling?

Fear constricts her heart. How much longer until she meets Zarkon face to face?

“Calm down, Pidge,” she breathes. “You have time. What do you have to work with?”

The green bayard is in Sendak’s custody. She has awareness again and her intellect. She has knowledge - Sendak isn’t going to kill her, so she has room to trash talk, get under his skin, make him make a mistake. She has her flight suit, which is keeping her warm despite the chill in the air.

A growl escapes her throat. Sendak probably turned the heat down on _purpose_ …

The climate systems. Pidge gasps, the first smile tugging at her lips at the sense of situational control. She hasn’t had long with the inner workings of these Altean pods, but they are blessedly easy to understand - she rigged one within a day of being in space after all. Since Coran had time to show her more of the ins and outs, she knows she can get full access to the engine from where she is.

Pidge pushes herself up and walks over to the opposite wall. The action feels good, easy like walking should. The hallucinogen from the planet must be out of her system now, partly, she suspects, thanks to Green’s influence somehow. She clumsily climbs onto the bench and stands, pacing the length of the area, fingers searching the wall until -

“Eureka,” Pidge says, a smirk curling her lips. She gently pulls off a piece of wall to reveal the climate control systems.

All wiring leads back to the engine, so Pidge now controls the pod.

But one wrong move and the bay door opens, sending her unprotected body into the vacuum of space at worst, and at best Sendak hears what she’s doing prematurely. So Pidge sets the panel door down gently before beginning.

The mess of gray, red, and blue wires makes searching difficult. Pidge pulls the bundles apart, but her cuffed wrists make long work of it.

Just as her wrists are burning from strain, she finds the thick yellow wire she once used to install the boosters to the engine. “Ha!” Pidge exclaims in victory. She grabs it and pulls.

The hum of the engine shuts off immediately and the batteries click to reserve power. Pidge replaces the panel with glee. She won’t be seeing Zarkon anytime soon and neither will Sendak.

She returns to her corner, huddled up just in time for the divider between front and back to dissipate.

She yells, unprepared for the blood rushing to her head as Sendak jerks her up by a leg, arms dangling by her head and face inches from his in an eerie deja vu. “What did you do, brat?” Sendak demands, tightening his hold.

Pidge gags on his foul breath but makes sure to grin when she fires back, “Nothing you can fix.”

Pidge yells as her shoulder collides with the bench, sending a stinging pain through her arm down to her hand. Her head slams and bounces off the wall, and she crumples to a floor that ripples like ocean waves.

Her feet drag across the floor as her eyes refocus. “It seems I cannot take my eyes off you for even a little while,” Sendak tells her. She lands belly first across the passenger seat, groaning at the impact to her sore arm despite the cushion.

The pain passes quickly enough that Pidge forces herself to sit up. Before her is an orange-tinted planet surrounded by satellites and ships entering docking stations. More importantly, the controls to actually pilot the pod!

But not under Sendak’s watchful eye.

“You think you’ve won,” he sneers, “but you’ve only delayed the inevitable. I’ll obtain a new shuttle on Estron-6.”

Hope flickers in her chest. A planet means room to run.

“And once we leave,” he grins, “I will be certain to punish you for your insolence.”

A knot tightens in her stomach. All the more reason to leave.

So she puts a half-organized plan in motion. Pidge fakes a cough. The weaker she seems the more advantage she’ll have once planetside. She closes her eyes and purposefully takes in several long breaths. Pretending to rest lets her keep an ear on Sendak, and _hopefully_ he leaves her alone.

 _Keep hope close_ , Pidge tells herself, _don’t let him know._

Now… how to actually escape.

Pidge waits several doboshes before swallowing and turning her head away from the pilot’s seat. Gently, she twists the cuffs, cracking an eye open just enough to see. They’re metal with no obvious key hole or code to crack. The only way to get it off is to slice it.

She needs her bayard. New objective: find where Sendak hid it and devise a way to take it back. If she’s to make a successful escape, retrieving her bayard is a must.

There’s a high chance Sendak keeps it on his person. She can’t take him one on one, not cuffed and not without a weapon - that she figured out from their first battle in the Castle of Lions.

Taking him by surprise is her only option, and for that she needs a distraction. Chances are good they’ll land at a port, filled with people - witnesses - and even if her escape fails, her whereabouts will get to Voltron’s ears.

(Did Voltron even have ears? Considering it’s a robot - do the comm units count as ears?)

_“Craft, do you have a designation and reason for visit?”_

The comm glows blue and Pidge bites her lip. Soon she’ll know what kind of planet she’s dealing with.

Intense heat from the tip of Sendak’s prosthetic claw makes the underside of her jaw extremely uncomfortable.

“This is your only warning,” he says evenly. “Do not speak unless I address you, Paladin.”

“Why?” Pidge dares to ask with a smirk. “Is this place not friendly to Galra?”

Her reward is a blunt hit to the side of the head. Pidge groans after hitting the side window, the whiplash making her brain feel like jelly.

Listening is more important than getting under his skin right now. Gather as much information as possible before reaching the planet and acting on a plan.

“This is Commander Sendak of the Galra Empire. I require a place to land.”

Pidge holds her breath. If unfriendly, they may fire on them with no regard for her. If friendly… well, the probability of escape decreases dramatically.

The comm is silent for longer than Pidge likes, but a new, gruffer voice addresses her captor.

_“Sendak. I’d heard rumors of your death. What brings you to my sector?”_

His lips curl into a devious smile, and though his eyes already glow yellow, they take on a new shine when he responds.

“Braknov,” Sendak says… fondly? “Gossip spreads swiftly as usual. What brings the commander of the fifth fleet to a trade cess pool such as this?”

The knot in her stomach twists uncomfortably with every word. What had been such a stroke of luck is quickly turning into more of a nightmare. The planet is Galra-controlled by Sendak’s commander buddy.

 _“Vermin extermination. Someone must keep bounty hunters in line and oversee the black market,”_ Braknov says with a bite of distaste. _“I know of your failure with Voltron, Sendak. You know I cannot help you.”_

Pidge smirks, and makes sure Sendak sees it, snickering. He glowers at her, but she feels smug in this small victory.

“Loyal to our Emperor as ever. I need only a ship, I have no interest in compromising your honor. I have a prisoner for Lord Zarkon, one of the Voltron Paladins.”

 _“...there are several ships here that you will have easy access to,”_ Braknov responds. _“Do it quickly. There is a cell of rebels here that would jump at this opportunity.”_

Her eyes widen. There’s a _chance_ with an established rebel network. The way Braknov speaks it’s as if this isn’t the only one - Voltron could have more allies!

Sendak reveals nothing of how he feels about this.

_“I look forward to seeing you back in command. Vrepit Sa.”_

“Vrepit Sa.”

The comm unit dulls, signaling the end of transmission. There is so much to process. Bounty hunters, rebels, black market - likely a small party of Galra then, the cost of maintaining Empire order on this kind of planet means an astronomical amount of resources, manpower included. It makes more sense to work the planet’s regular channels if she puts herself in Braknov’s position.

The window for escape is very slim. Sendak can’t be onto her if she’s to have any edge.

“Not on Zarkon’s good side, huh? I’d hate to be you,” she snarks.

And for a moment Pidge feels in charge of the situation. Even if the dig is only to get his mind off the fact that she’s plotting. Pride fills her chest, confidence coursing through her body, sitting up straight when Sendak growls at her and his teeth grind in annoyance.

But then he smiles - not nicely by any stretch of the imagination - and reaches out to rub her chin with his robot arm. The gentleness is surprising and makes dread churn in her gut. It’s so affectionate and it feels so wrong. Every inch of her body wants to run, but just as she starts to scoot away the claw clamps down hard around her jaw.

Pidge freezes, immobilized with fear and frustration. Can she do _nothing_?

“When I deliver you to Emperor Zarkon I will have my command restored and the resources needed to hunt the rest of you,” he says. His fangs show as his smile curls up even further. “And you will assist me.”

“I already told you,” she grits out, refusing to break her determined gaze directly into his eyes, “I’m not helping you do _anything_ and definitely not hurting my friends.”

It’s out of her mouth before she can help it. If she keeps talking it’s only going to anger him and get worse for her. Maybe silence is the better option before she really goes overboard.

But there’s information she can get from him if she plays her cards right. And she’s not going down without a fight, not until she exhausts everything she has.

She holds her breath for his response and… he lets her go.

Pidge grips her suit, clutching it close to her heart, and greedily takes in air. Doing nothing is not what she expected.

“Keep your spirit for now,” Sendak says, now focused on piloting. His smile has not faded. “There will be enough time to break you later.”

Pidge shivers. There is no try to escape anymore, she _has_ to.

~~~~~

They arrive and Pidge still has no plan. Sendak guides the pod into a docking bay and all she can do is grip her leggings to keep her hands from shaking. The last thing she wants is for Sendak to mock her fear - regardless of how rational or reasonably human it is.

The silent pod touches down on a landing pad and her shoulder collides with the side with her lack of seat belt. It sounds like a death knell to Pidge.

Two aliens - not Galra anyway - wait near the planetside entrance. They approach as Sendak lifts the shield, a short skinny one full of swagger and a tall portly one with a grin not unlike her captor’s.

Sendak frowns, seemingly less than pleased with the reception. A confrontation is likely… this is her _chance_.

Her behind is off the seat - her cuffed hands barely reaching the outside edge of the pod - before Sendak’s metal hand pushes her back. Air is knocked from her lungs and what food had been in her stomach rises into her throat as she bounces back into the seat.

Sendak has her wrist, unlocking the cuffs and chaining her left wrist to the right armrest while she swallows what is left of last night’s supper.

“Do not move,” he growls. “I do not have the patience to add to your punishment right now.”

When he leaves the pod to speak with the two greeters, Pidge tugs at the cuffs. She pounds her head against the back of the seat. Not even the new freedom she has is enough. There’s no way she would get away in time with a broken ship, not with a Galra commander well-equipped to recapture her.

One break. That’s all she needs. In the absence of anything else, she continues to tug and pull and wiggle out of the cuffs with all she has. Twisting around, she makes a stretch for the comm until - all she needs is a connection to the Castle and they can find her trail... it's just out of reach no matter what angle she tries.

Short arms _again_.

“What do you want?” Sendak growls at the greeters.

A sniveling voice speaks first. “Robes and Nevliln at your service, esteemed commander.” Pidge groans at the groveling. “We’re here at Commander Broknav’s request to see to your… special needs.”

“Are you here to fix the shuttle?” Sendak asks, his impatience thinly veiled.

“Ah, but only the best for a fleet commander of the Galra Empire,” Robes goes on. He gestures with a flourish to a keypad in the palm of his hand. “This here is the codes to a brand new Traz-class transport. Lightly used, and just for you, available for the low low price of 500,000 GAC.”

Pidge’s eyes widen. They’re going to try and swindle _Sendak_? This is not going to end well.

“You’ll give me the shuttle for nothing,” Sendak counters. He takes a swipe at the pad… which Robes removes from his reach.

“Nah, uh uh,” Robes chastises with a wave of a finger. “Everything costs something here, buddy. I’m giving you a massive discount only because Braknov speaks pretty high of you.”

“Then I will pay you - by sparing your lives,” Sendak threatens.

Pidge resumes her attempts in earnest. She has no desire to witness a murder that brings her one step closer to Galra Command.

Frustrations lead to a well of tears, which Pidge forces back with as much ferocity as she can muster. Can’t she have just one break? One stroke of good fortune? Pidge is a realist; she knows the universe never gives freely. It’s taken nearly everything from her.

Except for the one thing it has given her:  friends. And a ten thousand-year-old sentient mechanical Lion spaceship.

That already saved her once today.

Pidge pinches her eyes shut. “If you can hear me, girl,” she whispers, “help me get out of this.”

The deep roar of the Green Lion is so loud she half-fears it will give her away. In her mind’s eye, Pidge is back in the mindspace as if it’s just another bonding exercise, something that’s been easier for her to do since her time on Olkarion. A circuitry pattern shimmers in green all around her as she faces her Lion.

While it’s nice to feel physically as if she’s in another place, hands free and everything, she knows her time is running out. “ _Do_ you have a way to get me out of this?” She trusts Green, but she also feels the pressure to escape.

Green purrs, the translucent ground beneath her feet rumbling. A bud grows out of nothing and opens into a beautiful pink flower - a juniberry if Pidge remembers right from her Altean studies.

But it's the green bayard nestled among the stamen that catches her interest.

“My bayard? I know, but Sendak has it. I need to get close - I can’t get close if I can’t get free,” Pidge reasons.

Green nudges her mind, encouraging Pidge to pick up the one in front of her.

Well, the Lions haven’t led them astray so far.

The moment Pidge takes hold of the bayard it glows a green so bright she averts her eyes.

She’s back in the pod, still cuffed to the seat, but the weight in her hand is still there.

Pidge doesn’t know how, or why, but the green bayard is miraculously in her hand.

 _Thank you_ , she breathes.

She wastes no time, cutting her restraints and making a mad dash for the exit, aiming to put as much distance between herself and Sendak as possible. Find the rebels and make contact with her team.

“I think you should be more concerned about your little friend ditching you,” Robes says smugly. Sendak holds him up by the scruff of his shirt and Nevilin lies beaten and unconscious on the floor.

Pidge pays the scene no more mind than it takes to run past them. Her odds of escape increase exponentially if she can get out of this hanger.

Sendak’s arm cannon is far from silent. Pidge waits until it’s just about to fire to launch her grappling hook to hoist herself up and out of the beam’s way.

She dismisses it and drops to the floor, steadying her landing with a hand before sprinting back towards the door.

“You will not get away this time!” Sendak seethes. His long, heavy strides get closer despite her speed.

Pidge wheezes, chest rattling, feeling the oncoming bout of asthma. She grits her teeth. The door is open and she is not missing this chance.

The grappling hook clings to the inside of the doorframe. Pidge retracts it and holds on as she flies forward and across the threshold.

She ducks and rolls just before Sendak follows her, his arm destroying part of the wall and doubling the size of the entryway.

He’s _angry_.

“How?” he seethes as he stalks towards her. “How did you get that?”

Pidge scrambles to stand as she backs away, but she’s not scared now that she has a weapon.

She brandishes it in front of her, emboldened with the taste of freedom. “Come and find out!” she challenges.

Sendak roars and charges, swinging his prosthetic back to strike. Pidge shoots the green cord at his ankles, the blade whipping around his legs and anchoring to his boot. She pulls with a grunt, sending him crashing into the floor. She runs away to the sound of his enraged yells.

She’s in a long hallway, bland metal walls interrupted only by turns and doors with large yellow numbers - different docking bays.

A door opens and gelatinous blue blobs adorned with only sashes exit. Pidge yells in surprise, crashing into the widest of them and sticking.

“Watch where you’re going, fleshling,” the blob alien says. He inhales, and his body puffs out and sends Pidge to the floor.

“Sorry!” she says quickly, scampering to her feet and racing off. Some of the alien’s substance clings to her, but being clean is the least of Pidge’s priorities right now.

In the distance she hears the hum of Sendak’s arm cannon. She skids to a half at a corner and turns to see him in hot pursuit, aiming for her… the blob aliens in between them - unaware.

“Get out of the way!” Pidge yells desperately, waving her arms wildly to get their attention.

Sendak fires. Wide-eyed, Pidge watches helplessly, too far away to do anything for the blob aliens as they shriek and disintegrate in the beam.

Pidge rounds the corner to put herself out of harm's way, the beam singing her hair. Anger boils within, her fists clenched in rage. Was it possible her bayard could have pulled at least one out of the way? What if she’d gone down another hallway? Why was she not _faster_?

What’s done is done. With guilt churning in her stomach Pidge takes off into a sprint.

The hall seems to go on forever and Pidge takes each corner with reckless abandon. Left. Left. Right. Left. Right.

Until the dead end.

“Oh no,” she gasps in horror. Maybe Green’s help is all the good fortune that will come to her. So much for getting out of here and making contact with the rebels.

There’s a door with the Galra number for one hundred thirty. It looks older, more worn than the others. She can’t be choosy, not with Sendak on her heels. This is either a place to hide or holds a ship she can use to escape the planet.

Pidge exhales a happy sigh of relief when the door slides open. She grows bolder when it closes behind her, hiding her from any eyes in the hallway.

There is a ship! It’s a small vessel - perfect for staying under enemy radar - though with dents and blast marks it has certainly seen better days.

It’s the most beautiful piece of junk Pidge has ever seen.

But it isn’t just the ship.

“Leave my sister alone you big bully!” A small child in baggy clothing and with a reptilian face kicks a beefy Galra soldier. The boy’s older sister is caught in the soldier’s grip, and she bites him with sharp teeth.

“Ah!” the soldier yells, “brats, both of you!” He grins evilly, wrapping his arm around the girl’s throat and pulling her against him, then he grabs the younger brother by the arm and lifts him high. “The penalty for disrupting an official search is death.”

Pidge doesn’t need to consider her options further.

“Pick on somebody your own size!” she yells.

The Galra soldier’s eyes widen as the blade of the green bayard surges towards him. He drops both kids to catch it, smirking. “You just - AH!”

Pidge grins smugly retracts the electrified cord as the soldier falls unconscious to the floor. “Help me hide him,” she instructs the kids.

The older child finds the soldier’s cuffs and binds his hands before Pidge reaches them, like she’s _definitely_ done this before.

The boy stares at her with wide, starstruck eyes. “That was amazing!” he declares while he hovers around her. “I’ve never seen a weapon do that before! How does it work? Did you make it? Can I take it apart?”

“Hven!” the sister chastises. She’s finishing gagging the soldier with a ribbon from her dress. “You can’t just ask to take apart a stranger’s obviously special weapon.” She sighs, thin lips parting to show a double row of pointed teeth. “We haven’t even properly thanked her.”

Hven grumbles, kicking at the ground in front of him. “Mom would’ve done the same.”

There’s a genuine warmth in Pidge’s chest at the praise. It already seems like forever since she’s been in friendly company, and watching the siblings reminds her of her own brother.

“It’s fine,” Pidge says quickly. “Let’s hide this guy first. Then maybe you’ll let me use your comm unit?”

“Of course,” the girl says. “My name is Yara, and this is my pesky brother Hven. Our mom is inside the ship working on repairs.”

(Yara shows Pidge a false floor in a corner of the hanger. Pidge decides that these people very likely _are_ the rebels she’s looking for.)

“So, this is your ship?” Pidge inquires once the soldier is dealt with. The siblings escort her up the ramp into the ship. It feels dated compared to the Altean shuttle, even though it’s technically ten thousand years old. Pipes running above them are rusty and though the engine isn’t on, strange noises come from down below.

“You bet! It’s the best in the whole fleet!” Hven says proudly.

Pidge raises an eyebrow. “Fleet? What fleet?”

Yara slaps a palm to her face. “Hven, your mouth is going to get us killed one day.”

Hven gives her a side-glare, “You’re the one who couldn’t help pick-pocketing from a Galra soldier.”

“He had it coming and we need supplies for the rebel - !” Yara cuts herself off, looking to Pidge as the fins on her head tremble. “I know you saved us, sorry, but we have no idea who you are.”

Pidge shrugs, already feeling at home with the sibling teasing. “No need to apologize. I’m a friend. I’m - “

“IT WORKS!”

Pidge freezes when the door crashes open and a woman of the same species as the children joins them. “I broke the encryption! We have the information we need!”

The children light up. “So we can finally leave?” Hven asks excitedly.

“That’s great mom! I knew you could do it!” Yara exclaims.

Their mother grins and pushes the green-tinted goggles up her head. “All of Braknov’s intelligence is ours now. I’ll let our relay point know and - “ She stops when she finally notices Pidge. But she doesn’t ask who she is. “Matt? What are you doing here? You’re our relay point!”

Pidge loses her voice in her throat and suddenly nothing else matters. Matt - she knows _Matt_ . Matt is alive, he’d _escaped._

“She would have given us her officer code if she was Matt,” Yara says in a matter-of-fact tone.

The mother looks her up and down skeptically. “Then what are you...are you a _face stealer_?”

“No!” Pidge yelps. “Matt - Matt is my _brother_ . How - how do you know him? Can I - ?” _Talk to him?_

No, he’s safe. She isn’t. Contacting Voltron comes first.

“My name is Pidge,” she says, changing direction. She takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’m a Paladin of Voltron and I need to get ahold of my team.”

Twin gasps echo from the kids behind her - who is she calling a kid anyway when she’s only _fifteen_? - and the mother’s double eyelids flip as if blinking.

“So the reports are true,” she says. “We’ve been radio silent for months, but last word was that all five Lions fly again.” She hums. “I suppose that explains your strange outfit.”

“Well, the rumors are true,” Pidge says, smiling...but it falters quickly; it’s time to get down to business. “But I’m on the run from a Galra commander named Sendak. I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Neither do we,” Yara pipes up. “Lieutenant Lonk confronted Hven and I. Pidge saved us. I think he knows.”

“And I don’t think he’s going to stay unconscious forever,” Hven adds.

“Then we’ll do you one better,” the mother says with a smirk. “The four of us are getting out of here right now. Your father taught me a few flight tricks before he died. The rebellion doesn’t call me Viera the Dressmaker for nothing!”

 _“You know what they called me in flight school? The Tailor - Because of how I_ thread the needle _.”_

Guilt flutters in her stomach at the memory, and her heart stings with worry. She isn’t even sure if Lance is dead, alive - is he still stranded? Or did he contact the team? _She_ needs to contact the team while she still has a chance. There’s a warm bubbly feeling in her heart at the prospect of being able to talk to them again, then they’ll know where she is… and she can confirm Lance is safe. “I can contact Voltron while you take off. Where’s the comm?”

“In the cockpit, follow me,” Viera says. She’s halfway through the door before she turns sharply, claw pointing at her children. “Yara, do the safety check.”

Yara nods. “I’m on it!”

“Hven, make sure the surveillance equipment is all there,” Viera adds as Yara runs off to do her job.

Viera jumps into the pilot’s seat and activates the engines. “It’ll take a dobosh or two to get warmed up.”

Pidge stumbles in after her and seizes the comm. It's only after she inputs the correct code that she realizes her hands aren’t shaking. Cool under pressure, though anxious heat rides up her collar.

 _Thank you, national science meet three years in a row_ , Pidge thinks. Though the pressure was hardly on the same scale, it was practice in hindsight.

“This is Pidge,” she says immediately when the secure channel opens. The words feel so sweet to say she wants to cry in relief. “Allura, Shiro? Is anyone there?” Pidge waits three tics without an answer before continuing, gritting her teeth. She knows without a doubt this is the right channel. Where is everyone? “I repeat this is Pidge. I’m on Estron-6, pursued by Sendak. I - I don’t know what happened to Lance. He might be hurt and probably still on Enord… please if anyone hears--”

 _“Greetings, rebels and Paladin,”_ the voice of Commander Braknov interrupts, cutting off her signal.

“ _No_ …” Pidge trembles, falling weakly into the copilot’s chair.

_“I have taken the liberty of cutting off any interplanetary communication and the power to all hangers. There is no escape. My men will find you...and bring you before me to be tried for treason against the Empire.”_

The communication cuts off and the lights in the hanger go dark.

No, no, no, this can’t be happening. Not when she’s so close to escape.

“Can he do that?” Pidge asks. “There must be a way around it. We have to go now!”

The fin that adorns Viera’s head frills, her gaze downcast. “There is a way to manually override the hanger doors,” she says softly.

Pidge’s heart sinks into her stomach as she remembers the control panel just inside the entry to the hallway. “It’s outside the ship,” she says, heart breaking. “Someone has to stay behind.”

She’s going to have to go back to Sendak, to whatever punishment he has planned for her.

It makes her sick, bile rising into her throat for the second time today.

Viera nods and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “See if you can get the comm working. If this doesn’t work we must get this intelligence to your brother, Voltron, anyone who can use it. I… need to speak with the children.”

She’s gone before Pidge can say a word. Shame pools in her stomach. Viera isn’t comforting her, the mother of two plans to open the door herself, and for a moment there’s relief in her heart.

How selfish. Pidge is the Green Paladin of Voltron, one of the defenders of the universe - not the one who needs defending.

Resolve fills her stomach, like a milkshake or a healthy portion of peanut butter. It eases the anxiety of her probable future because she’ll have something she hadn’t before:  witnesses.

Hven blocks her way out, the boy out of breath. “Everything’s here.” He looks around, still huffing. “Where’s Mom?”

Pidge forces herself to smile, fully aware it doesn’t look genuine. She’s made her choice, but  now she must put it in action before she can change her mind.

“Your mom is going to be fine,” Pidge says, surprised at how steady her voice is. “There’s something I want you to do for me, okay?”

Hven has no eyebrows, but his fins rattle in suspicion. “Like what?” he asks, voice matching his demeanor.

Pidge holds the green bayard in the palms of her hands. Her heart races, terrified to willingly give away her only weapon, especially since it represents her connection to the Green Lion. _Sorry, Girl. Thank you for everything you’ve done so far._

“You were interested in this earlier, right?” A smirk pulls on her face as his jaw drops and wonderment fills his eyes. “This is a bayard; it’s a very special Paladin weapon. I want you to take care of it for me and give it to Princess Allura.”

The excitement fades on his face even when she places it in his hands. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

Pidge beams with pride. Clever, just like herself.

“I have something I need to take care of.” It’s not a lie exactly. “It’s really important you and your family get your intel to the right people. I’m going to make sure of it.”

And this way Zarkon can’t get his hands on another bayard.

“Can you promise?” she insists.

Hven waits, rolling the bayard around in his hands, examining it. He looks her in the eye. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” She hugs him, and squeezes a bit tighter than she means to. It’s probably the last friendly contact she’ll have in a while.

“Wait here for your mom, she’ll be right back,” Pidge promises. She gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, like his mother had given her, before taking off to the exit.

Viera is speaking with Yara, who looks upset beyond words, shaking her head fervently. Mother gives daughter a lick on her snout, a clear sign of endearment.

“I’ll get the doors open,” Pidge says when she reaches them. “You two get ready for takeoff.”

“N-no,” Viera insists with shock. “Voltron gives us all hope. I can’t willingly let the Galra take a Paladin from us. You are far more important to the universe than I am.”

It’s far too tempting to take her offer, but one look at Yara’s hysterical face reminds Pidge of her resolve.

“When I became a Paladin, I made a promise to save the universe for everyone’s families,” Pidge says. “I can’t break a family apart like mine is.”

Viera places a hand over her chest. “But you’ll be--“

“Sendak won’t kill me, he wants to take me to Zarkon alive,” Pidge interrupts. _So he’ll use torture and humiliation instead._

“But Braknov _will_ kill you,” she continues. “There’s time for you to tell Voltron where I am so they can rescue me. You’ve _got_ to hurry, though.”

Viera takes her hand, and only then Pidge realizes she’s shaking. Oh no, showing fear or hesitation is not ideal right now. Not when she’s trying to keep this family together and keep a brave face for them.

But she _is_ scared. Pidge’s mind is a dangerous place, filling in blanks to Sendak’s spoken and implied threats. She wants to go home. She wants to go with them and see her brother right now.

“It’s okay to be frightened, Paladin Pidge,” Viera says softly, motherly; Pidge sees her own mother just as clearly for an instant. “I will take this burden from you, just say the word.”

“No,” Pidge says quickly. Fear of failing this family far outweighs her personal safety and… “It’s more logical for me to stay.” She pauses, biting her quivering lip. “Please be fast,” she finishes with a crack in her voice.

Viera hugs her close,  and Pidge takes it for all she’s worth. “I broke the shuttle speed record in my youth, so know your rescue will be swift.” A pause. “May the Ancients be with you in the meantime.”

Pidge pulls away before she can get too comfortable. She takes a deep breath to steel herself. “What do I need to do?”

“The largest button on the panel must have pressure applied to it for the emergency door to remain open,” Viera explains. “You cannot let go until we are clear of the force field. The barrier will protect you from the vacuum of space and we will be able to pass through.”

Pidge nods. “I can do that.” Banging metal in the distance makes her heart race.

“Lunk is awake,” Yara says for them all.

“Hurry,” Pidge says, shoving them both back into the ship. “If you do get ahold of my brother tell him what happened. Tell him I’m looking for him.”

“You have my word.” Viera gently licks her temple, like a kiss, before running to the cockpit.

Yara hugs her tightly. “Thank you for saving us. I know you’ll be able to save everyone else’s families too.”

She climbs the ramp and presses a button. It takes all of Pidge’s willpower to stand still, watching as the door seals - with her on the outside.

Time to get to work.

Pidge rushes over to the hallway exit and rips open the panel, slamming her palm onto the largest button.

The thick metal hangar door rumbles to life, revealing the vastness of space and the outer edges. The ship’s engines rev and it lifts.

A peace settles over Pidge; they’ll be okay. They’ll find Matt and Voltron and they’ll find her. She just has to stay alive until then.

The door to the hallway hisses open and fear seizes her anew. The door has only risen halfway. She scoots as far away as she can without losing her grip. “Go!” she yells, uncertain if Viera and her kids can even hear her.

True to her word, Viera is fast. She pilots the ship out of the hangar, skimming under the bay doors.

Not a moment too soon. Purple claws grab at her arms and waist. She’s dragged from the panel and the door shuts again with a resounding and very lonely clank, plunging the hanger into darkness once more.

Pidge breathes heavily, relieved the family will be safe but also anxious as claws wrap around her forearms. She’ll have to wait for a rescue now instead of engineering her own. The lack of control makes her sick to her stomach.

“Commander, we have the Paladin,” says the soldier who holds her. “The rebels have escaped. No sign of Lieutenant Lunk.”

“You’ve hardly _looked_."

Pidge gasps. That’s Braknov’s voice, but it’s clearly not from a comm.

He walks into the hanger accompanied by another soldier with a kind of glow stick. The Commander is dressed in armor the same as Sendak and carries the same cold presence, he doesn’t look at her with murder in his eyes.

Braknov stills for half a tic, fingers laced behind his back, before striding directly to where Yara hid Lunk. He rips open the metal floor and drags his subordinate out.

“See to Lunk’s injuries,” he orders. “Electrical burns can be serious if not treated.”

The soldier with the lantern gives it to Braknov with a salute, “Vrepit Sa.” He taps a piece of metal near his temple. “Pennak, run security procedure Gamma-Five; assume the rebels made off with all the secure information.

“Nothing can be done about the rebels,” Braknov says as he approaches. His yellow eyes glow bright, singularly focused on her. “Now, what to do with the Voltron Paladin.”

Pidge returns his gaze with a rebellious glare of her own but remains silent.

“I should have you interrogated for what you know to salvage the loss of the rebels,” he continues.

Pidge holds her breath, clenching her fists to make sure her anger and frustration show more than her fear. Considering Sendak is her alternative, she thinks she prefers Braknov.

“But Sendak is an old friend, loyal to our Emperor. I’ll not be the one to claim his prize. It would be a waste to lose such an excellent warrior.” He turns to her guard. “Deliver the Paladin to Sendak’s ship. Make sure all of his requested provisions have been loaded.”

“Vrepit Sa!”

~~~~~

The walk isn’t terrible. Silence reigns and her guard only pokes her with his blaster every few steps to make sure she can’t run. Pidge thinks about it, calculates the odds of the blaster hitting her and if she’s fast enough to maneuver around it. The probabilities aren’t good. The hallway is narrow and there’s no way to tell which doors aren’t locked or where they lead.

And if a blast injures her, Sendak is only going to make it worse.

The guard grabs her arm - sharp nails digging past the suit enough to justify a wince - and opens a numbered door.

He pushes her through first and Pidge freezes in place. The ship itself is three times the size of the Altean pod, a dull grey with the emblem of the Empire painted starkly on the side in a deep purple.

It’s Sendak standing in front of the ship’s back entrance that gives her pause. All the fear she’s been able to push back surfaces now that she faces reality. Pidge gulps when he smiles, a predator about to claim his prey. She must look the part of a cornered animal.

 _It doesn’t matter_ , Pidge tells herself. _Don’t give away information. Be smart. Pick your battles. Stay alive; help is coming._

The guard shoves her forward, and Pidge yelps and loses her balance, jerked from her thoughts. The floor flies towards her, but Pidge twists so her shoulder takes the impact.

“Commander Braknov thanks you for your efforts in settling the dispute among the bounty hunter organizations,” her guard stays professionally. Pidge rolls onto her stomach. Stall for time. “He hopes all is to your satisfaction.”

Pidge gasps sharply as Sendak’s metal claw cages her in, coming down with enough force to punch holes through the floor.

“Where is the bayard?” Sendak asks thoughtfully.

“The bayard, Sir?”

“Her weapon. Was the Paladin not searched?” he presses with some impatience.

The guard pauses, the tension thick, and Pidge finds herself relieved to not be the subject of Sendak’s ire for the moment. “...no, Sir. The Paladin offered little resistance when captured.”

Pidge half expects Sendak to explode in rage, but instead his claws crunch through the metal floor, inching closer to her.

“Braknov is generous enough with this gift; give him my gratitude. I will conduct the search myself.”

Pidge can almost hear the guard sigh with relief, “is there anything else you will be needing, Sir?”

“No. I will be taking off for Central Command shortly. Vrepit Sa.”

“Vrepit Sa!”

The guard leaves, the volume of his footsteps fading and the closing of the door behind him more bone-chilling than being in the dark with Braknov.

Because now she’s alone.

“You,” Sendak begins slowly, “disobeyed me.”

Pidge sucks in a breath to steady her trembling shoulders. “I’m not a fan of your plan.”

“At least now you see the futility of your situation.” Metal presses firm, pinning her arms to her chest. Sendak tugs her into the air and her head spins as the hangar to go hazy. When her vision clears, she’s eye level with her captor. “The rest of Voltron will soon meet your same fate. None can escape the Galra Empire.”

But Viera and her children escaped, and it gives Pidge all the confidence she needs. “My friends are going to find me and stop you,” she declares. “Then we’re going to take down Zarkon.”

“Let them come,” he crows. “Central Command is impenetrable.”

Pidge grins and can’t resist contradicting him. “I guess you’ve been living under a rock. Been there, done that. It wasn’t hard.”

Sendak growls, likely displeased he failed to rattle her. “Once I have my fleet back, I will correct that impudence.”

Her head goes numb, spinning with vertigo when Sendak drops his arm to his side - with her still in his clutches. His boots clink hard on the ramp to the ship, stopping once at the top.

The mechanism for the door whines. Watching even the hanger disappear before her eyes gives a sense of finality and increases the foreboding that’s been rising in her stomach since she made her decision to stay behind.

Sendak drops her to the floor when it clamps shut and the engines come to life. Her body feels heavier, like it’s being suctioned to the ground - the unmistakable feeling of lift-off.

That’s it. There’s nothing stopping Sendak from taking her to Central Command. Pidge can only hope Viera gets to Voltron in time.

“The convenience of prisoner transport craft is not needing to be in the pilot’s seat,” Sendak says lightly. A cruel smile forms on his face. “It gives me more time to see to your punishment. Follow me - while you still have use of your legs.” He turns and takes a few steps, expectant she’ll follow - flaunting his power.

The threat - promise - has the opposite effect. It roots her to the spot and fuels the fire in her heart. “Is just me really going to be enough?”

He stops.

“You lost the Castle, all five Lions, and two other Paladins besides me,” she digs. “I don’t know how Zarkon measures success, but I wouldn’t count this as one.”

Pidge curls to her side, barely dodging the laser fire.

“You talk too much,” Sendak says. Smoke rises from a gun within a claw.

“I’m good at talking,” Pidge counters even as Sendak retrieves something from his pockets. “About video games, and math, and puns.”

A bundle of fabric hits her face and lands in her arms. It feels like cotton but coarse and not entirely comfortable.

“Your flight suit is unbecoming of a prisoner, so I’ve brought you the local uniform. Get dressed. You have five minutes before I do it for you.”

Pidge unfolds the bundle. Her stomach flips when she sees it’s a single garment. “There’s no pants,” she says, making an effort to hide her unease.

“Four doboshes and fifty tics.”

Her blood runs cold. Pidge drops the uniform and begins to unzip the back of the suit, pausing to make note that Sendak hasn’t made a move to look away.

“A little privacy?” she drones.

Sendak’s smug grin makes her gut clench. “After you attempted escape today? No.”

A whole new level of discomfort surges through her body like a shockwave. It - it’d only been a few doboshes!

Time ticking, she turns her back to him, unzipping down to the small of her back. Pidge has years of practice getting in and out of shirts and removing bras discreetly; otherwise the situation would be far worse than it already is. She pulls the new shirt over herself before carefully removing the flight suit.

For her it’s functionally a dress, albeit a bit shorter than she prefers. The material scratches her skin. Having no shoes is unnerving, making her feel vulnerable. If it was a more comfortable material Pidge could see it as pajamas rather than a potato sack. But this is no sleepover and it’s obvious her discomfort is exactly what Sendak wants

A massive purple hand wraps around her body - her bare body - under the scratchy garment. Pidge freezes to process what’s happening an instant before she squirms, grabbing and trying to push Sendak’s hands off of her. “Let me go you monster!”

“Tell me where the bayard is,” he demands.

“Where you and Zarkon can’t get your filthy hands in it!” she yells, rage boiling in her gut.

“Not good enough,” he says coldly.

Everything about the slender, hairy fingers prodding without consent sends waves of anger through her body. There’s nothing sexual about it - he’s _pragmatic_ about the search, but humiliation still pools in her gut.

He gives up after what feels like an eternity and throws her to the ground. The blunt pain and the cold floor against her bare legs feels like a warm bed comparatively.

“I don’t know what witchcraft you used to take it from me,” he hisses. A delighted gleam fills his eyes as he smiles. “Perhaps I should gut you to see if you swallowed it.”

Pidge forces herself into steady breaths as she glares back with all the ferocity she can muster. “Then you’d have one dead Paladin and no bargaining chips to get your fleet back.”

His face scrunches in disgust. “Move.”.

She grits her teeth and repeats the mantra of ‘stall and stay alive’ in her mind. She keeps her steps small and deliberate as she passes him.

Pidge isn’t even surprised when he stops her just long enough to cuff her wrists behind her back. “What more do you want? Scared I’m going to stop you again?”

His smile sends chills down her spine. “Patience, Paladin. This is only the beginning.”

~~~~~

Her body collides with the ground, sliding and bouncing off a wall. The door locks shut, leaving only a low magenta light. The prison cell is empty save for shelving too high for her to reach.

Pidge rises to her knees, breathing deeply, shoulders sagging. Her stomach clenches at the same time, mentally preparing herself for whatever is to come.

“It takes”--huff--“the resources”--breath--“of another commander”--huff--“and you”--huff--“to take down the smallest Paladin,” she says, glaring as if that would cause him to drop dead right then and there. “I hope you’re proud.”

Sendak steps away from the door - closer to her. The light is just enough to see his pleased grin. “You killed my lieutenant, sabotaged my takeover of the Castle of Lions, and successfully managed to escape me for a time. I am as impressed as I am annoyed,” he purrs.

Pidge’s heart sinks into her stomach. A happy Sendak is not good for her.

(Neither is an angry Sendak, not while she’s a glorified punching bag.)

“So impressed,” he continues, “that I found you a gift while you were away.”

Pidge backs up against the wall, all too aware of her trembling. A _gift_ from an Empire-controlled planet that deals in the black market can’t mean anything good for her.

Sendak knows she’s terrified. She can’t cover that up anymore, but she will protect that family and her teammates no matter what.

So she steels her gaze, concentrating on her heavy breathing, counting them like sheep in a dream. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I won’t tell you anything.”

His lips curl up even further, downright delighted. “Good. I don’t intend to. That is a job for the Druids.”

Sendak reaches to the shelf and grabs a metal contraption. Pidge stands and moves about the cell, back against the wall until Sendak has her pinned in a corner. The item is a half-mask, the inside covered in a dark red fabric.

A muzzle.

He lifts her chin with his prosthetic claw, forcing her to look into his laughing yellow eyes. “I want your screams and pathetic whimpers to be the only thing I hear until I hand you over to Emperor Zarkon.”

Pidge gasps when his metal claw clasps her jaw - suddenly, tightly - and stares at the loose fabric inching towards her.

“No - wait!” are her last intelligible words before he stuffs the cloth into her mouth. She seethes, wiggling to escape Sendak’s grip, demanding he let her go, only for it all to come out in mumbles.

The muzzle clamps tight around the back of her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. (Was - was this how Shiro got his scar?) Fear verges on panic, and her lungs can’t pull in enough air.

Sendak seizes her arm. Pidge forces herself to look at him, show any kind of defiance.

His smirk melts what confidence she mustered.

“We have several quintants to travel,” Sendak says. “Let’s get started.”

A knife-like claw extends from his index finger. Pidge tenses, fully aware of her quaking body. There’s nothing she can do or say to stop him. The lack of control is far more terrifying than the pain that’s coming.

The claw hooks under her collar, pressing but not penetrating her skin. Sendak pulls down, and the top of the sack currently posing as her garment rips in two. She gulps, the knot in her stomach twisting tighter. Her undersuit had been tight enough she never needed a bra, so there’s nothing besides her shirt to keep modesty. He just made her change - what - ?

Pidge inhales sharply as Sendak places the tip of his claw just below her throat. Her back hits the wall, unable to escape the pressure.

A terrified whimper that Pidge never knew herself capable of vibrates through the cloth the exact moment Sendak’s claw penetrates her skin. Though the initial pain is little worse than the pinprick of a hypodermic needle, he _holds it_ there. Her eyes widen and heart races when the claw of his prosthetic _glows_ and he places it on her skin next to his natural claw, the heat becoming increasingly unbearable, as if the syringe is injecting boiling water into her veins.

“There is no escape from the Galra Empire,” he says. Pidge gasps, stomach constricting as Sendak twists his claw inside of her. “For your attempt, I am going to make sure you _never_ forget that.”

He pulls down through her skin. Pidge tries desperately not to scream - holding her breath, tensing up. She tries to bear it for what feels like doboshes but is likely only tics before she can’t hold back any longer.

She leans forward, trying to relieve the pressure and pain, chest on fire as Sendak takes an agonizingly slow time making his mark. She is spared the heat when the massive prosthetic covers the side of her face and the wall hits the back of her head with a dizzying force that for just an instant makes her forget about the expanding, bleeding wound on her chest.

Sendak stops short of her breasts - still covered, barely - for only a heartbeat before he begins again.

And again. And again, and again. Pausing and changing direction, as if he’s an artist and her skin is the canvas.

A few days of this is well worth a mother’s life. She _can_ get through this.

Pidge trembles and shrieks with every new line, eyes clenched shut as if it will manage the pain, but they can’t even hold in her tears. Each kick to get away gets weaker when it doesn’t work, and she whines every tic the claw spends under her skin. She gasps for air - finding only enough to bring her to the next breath.

Then it all stops.

“Your brave face dismantles well.” Pidge opens her eyes tentatively, finding his smirking face through his metal claws. She tries to stand - and fails - against his strength holding her down - all she wants to do is punch him in the face.

“You’re a coward,” Pidge says, but even she can’t understand her words.

He has the audacity to puff his chest out with something akin to pride. Pidge inhales deep, but the stinging pain on her chest cuts it short. She coughs, choking on her own spit soaking into the cloth. She swallows instead, eyes filled with tears.

She can see part of what he’s done to her. Even with the blood oozing out of the image and soaking into her garment, sticking it to her skin, she recognizes it. Between the millions of files she’s translated and the missions the team has run, the image is forever engraved in her mind.

And now on _her_ , the symbol of the Empire itself.

“The Champion has an arm of the Empire; now you carry its emblem.” His hand tightens around her face, sharp claws digging into her forehead. “Forever marking you.”

_As mine._

He doesn’t say it, but she finishes the sentence in her head.

She has to believe her team is coming and that Viera will give them her message. For the first time since before deciding to enroll at the Galaxy Garrison, she is out of options and out of ideas.

There’s nothing Pidge hates more than being helpless and not _knowing_ what to do. Seeds of doubt creep into her thoughts on the odds of her survival like this, especially with the bleeding lines on her chest. Who knows where this ship has been, what diseases she’s being exposed to. Infection is inevitable without treatment.

She’s _scared_ and _tired_ and her chest burns and throbs with no relief.

“Now you understand what I want from you,” Sendak tells her. “Fear, agony, _despair._ There will be no rescue, no rest. When you are not telling the Druids all you know, you will feel pain by my hand. Physical” The flat of his thumb presses hard against her throat--“or otherwise. You deprived me of my lieutenant, so you will assist me in destroying the rebel forces you hold so dear.”

No. _No_ . Pidge yells and thrashes - it goes nowhere, her head stuck hard against the wall, legs left kicking against the floor. The rebels are the _allies_ Voltron needs, where _Matt_ is.

Her breath hitches, a stinging pain shooting through her chest when Sendak lays a claw directly on the lines of his new masterpiece.

“You still protest,” Sendak says as if he’s a casual observer. “Perhaps I have not been clear - when I want you to do something, you will do it. _Scream_.”

He digs deeper, claw scraping over tender tissue. She can’t hold back the scream even to spite him.

“And when your usefulness has been spent, I will give you the death you deserve.”

Tears roll down her face unhindered - for both the fiery pain that will not cease, and for the frustration of not being able to do a thing about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/).


End file.
